(Th. 2.41). Surviving citizens are asked to emulate the dead by “wondering at the city’s power as you actually see it each day and becoming her lovers, reflecting wherever her fame appears great to you that young men …
[thought it right] to offer [their virtue] to [the city] as their finest contribution” (Th. 2.43). Sexual desire ( ero ̄ s) is appropriated as an apt metaphor for the relation of potential warriors who need to yearn for the city while being in awe of its might (Monoson 1994). A soldier needing
to muster emotional motivation to meet the enemy is similar to the ath-
lete working himself up before the contest, and the speech exploits that imagery too, concluding with mention that the state will “confer on both the dead and their survivors a beneficial crown for such contests as these.
And now … depart” (Th. 2.46) (Hornblower 1991: 315). The word for
“depart” is exactly what the starter says to the runners in Greek footraces, thus here implying that the survivors must “run to the goal,” emboldened to meet the challenges (Mikrogiannakis 2004).
Next comes the brilliant narrative on the great Plague at Athens (430
bc) that arose from the crowding in the city. It deliberately presents a sharp contrast to Periclean idealism. One seemingly ironic echo of the
funeral oration is the phrase “self‐sufficient individual” ( so ̄ ma autarkes) that occurs in both, asserting the self‐sufficiency of the Athenian individual and city in the Periclean speech (Th. 2.36 and 41) but flatly stating that in the plague “no individual was shown to be self‐sufficient” against it (Th. 2.53; see Scanlon 1994: 145–56; Allison 1983). The allusion serves as a warning about the force of chance against the best calculation, but it need not negate the degree of self‐sufficiency achieved earlier in Athens.
The plague narrative encourages readers to contemplate the unpredict-
ability of chance and to observe, as in a test case, how individuals react differently to the most challenging circumstances (Th. 2.47–54). It is also a showcase for Thucydides’ quasi‐Hippocratic method at its most overtly objective, as he reports while withholding judgment: “Now, let each
man, doctor or layman, speak about it according to his understanding,
what its origin is likely to have been and [what its causes]” (Th. 2.48).
As in his earlier statement on method (Th. 1.22), the utility here is to reveal circumstances clearly, not to suggest simple solutions (Allison 1997b: 65–71; Parry 1969: 108). Though there may be Homeric resonances of the dogs and humans dying during the plague in Iliad 1, the style of the early chapters is technical, reviewing possible origins and listing the epidemic’s
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horrid symptoms and progress (Th. 2.47–50; Hornblower 1991: 316–18;
Mittelstadt 1968; Mitchell‐Boyask 2008). Interestingly, recent excavations have unearthed a mass grave of 90–150 victims of this episode, a somber modern confirmation of the historian’s report (Axarlis 1998).
Thucydides notes the selfless generosity of a minority taking care of the sick, but observes at greater length the self‐seeking and lawless behavior during the plague, including the mass burials violating funeral customs, as well as the lawless pleasure seeking of people faced with imminent
death (Th. 2.51–3). The episode is a model of the author’s view of
raw human nature and the chaos that ensues when impulses dictate all
and “laws and customs [ nomoi] are ignored” (Nielsen 1996). It is also a critique of conventional religion, namely of people’s self‐serving reading of oracles (Th. 2.54; Marinatos 1981). The passage has been rightly
compared with a later one on the inversion of values during civil strife at Corcyra: “Whatever was pleasant immediately and whatever was conducive to that were deemed both noble and useful. Neither fear of the gods nor law of man was a deterrent” (Th. 2.53; cf. 3.82).
The second year of the war (430 bc) is marked by the continued inva-
sion of Attica and by the presence of the plague in the city, which gives rise to popular blaming of Pericles and desire to make peace (Th. 2.59).
Pericles’ intelligence senses the solution: “Seeing them incensed at the situation and in every way acting just as he had expected, he called an assembly” when he gave his third (and final) extended speech in the work (Th. 2.60–4). The speech is forceful and blunt and does not plead or
pander to the people. It is the historian’s final occasion to characterize this leader in action and to display his control of the people. Pericles deflects the Athenians’ impulsive anger ( orge ̄) by taking the offensive, explaining how he is a leader second to none in the four main skills:
“judging what is necessary and explaining it; furthermore a lover of my country and above money” (Th. 2.60). There is a risk of being too for-mulaic in sketching an ideal leader, but this model is repeated by
Thucydides directly (Th. 2.65) and it seems to encapsulate the qualities by which others are seen to fall short (e.g., Themistocles and Alcibiades seem to lack the love of their city). He contrasts his steadfastness with the people’s weakened resolve: “For that which is sudden and unexpected
and which comes with the least accountability is that which enslaves the spirit: this has happened to you, especially … on account of the plague”
(Th. 2.61). He then shifts to the reason for confidence, namely the power of the city, pointing out especially the Athenians’ naval superiority
(Th. 2.62), which is consistent with his earlier strategy of relying on sea power (Th. 1.142; 2.22). Athenians cannot abdicate their “rule”
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(“empire”: arche ̄), he adds, without becoming enslaved to others, “for you now hold [the rule] like a tyranny that seems unjust to acquire but dangerous to let go” (Th. 2.63). The tyrant–state motif, invoked later by Cleon (Th. 3.37), is another bald statement that maintaining power is a natural necessity – a highly precarious position, and one that invokes an emotional response by those ruled. The eternal fame of Athenian rule is in itself a motivation to endure present hardships:
Know that Athens has the greatest renown among all humans because of
not yielding to misfortune … and has certainly acquired the greatest power
[ dunamis] known up to this time, for which it will be forever remembered by posterity, even if in the present we give way somewhere (for it is in the nature of all things to be diminished too), that we as Hellenes ruled over most Hellenes … and lived in a city that was in all ways best provided for and greatest. (Th. 2.64)
This philosophical perspective may seem like a prediction of the fall of Athens interjected by Thucydides, but it may well be an accurate reflection of a typically Periclean stress on the fame of the city – a stress based on its power and wealth, as in the funeral oration (Th. 2.41.2 and 43.1).
Pericles died in 429 bc, a year after this speech, but his obituary and accomplishments are summarized here to allow for a transition to the battle narratives. The prominence given to the power of Athens and the final
assessment of Pericles immediately following this speech may imply the
historian’s approval of the Periclean control of the people and image of the state (Th. 2.65). The passage is one of the few extended and explicit statements of the historian’s political views. Before the war, Athens “became greatest in his hands, and when war broke out it was clear that he foresaw the power it had at this time” (Th. 2.65). Even if we fault Thucydides’
judgment that Pericles’ successors actually differed much from him in their manner of rule (Hornblower 1997: 340), it remains Thucydides’ view that Pericles was different, and particularly in his ability to control the people: He exercised free control over the people and was not led by them instead of leading them, because he did not speak to please in order to acquire power [ dunamis] by improper means but, since he had this through
his prestige, even contradicted them in their anger … And what was in name a democracy became in actuality rule by one man. (Th. 2.65)
Pericles’ successors “handed over control to the people’s pleasure” and
“made many mistakes, especially the expedition to Sicily,” because of
politically motivated decisions, which eventually brought about the city’s
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downfall (Th. 2.65). Power and its able use, then, are for Thucydides the primary measures of a successful leader and city. The passage clearly
absolves Pericles of fault for the ultimate defeat; and, historically accurate or not, this view recalls the thematic emphasis on a leader’s intelligence and skill in responding to human impulses. This section also demonstrates how understanding human thinking is an essential aspect of maintaining
imperial power.
The narratives of the series of campaigns that fill out the rest of Book 2
(Th. 2.66–103; mostly on 429 bc) show Athens without a clear strategy
and essentially leaderless, capped by sheer panic (“as great as any during this war”) when the Athenians think that the enemy has sailed right into Piraeus (Th. 2.94; Connor 1984: 75–8). All the action in these sections produces no significant gains for either side.
Book 3
Athens and Sparta are now missing their great leaders. Archidamus is last mentioned at 3.1, oddly with no “obituary” like that of Pericles, which indicates the more crucial role of Pericles in Thucydides’ model of
leadership and imperial spirit. Three episodes stand out in this book,
stylistically and thematically, namely the Athenian siege of and debate on Mytilene (Th. 3.8–18; 25–36; 37–50), the Peloponnesian siege of and the speeches concerning Plataea (Th. 3.20–4; 52–68), and civil strife ( stasis) on Corcyra (Th. 3.69–85). The Mytilenean debate was mentioned above,
in discussions of how justice is balanced with pragmatic aims in both
speeches, how Cleon points up sophistic rhetoric, and how Diodotus out-
lines human nature and its irrational reliance on hope and desire. We might add that Cleon’s argument also hinges on an assessment of the Mytilenean emotion and power: a condition of undue boldness, hope for greater
power, and choice of “might over right” (Th. 3.39). He also discourages showing pity or clemency for human error in this case (Th. 3.40).
Corcyrean stasis was examined earlier for the historian’s own views of human nature and the manipulation of meaning during war. The antithetical speeches of the Plataeans and Thebans before the Spartans at
Plataea appeal to right and wrong in elaborate argumentation, including the invocation of the actions of each in the Persian Wars, but in the end Sparta does not spare the Plataeans, the historian reveals, for pragmatic reasons related to the usefulness of Thebes as an ally (Connor 1984:
91–5). The Plataean debate should be considered against the Mytilenean
one, illustrating how military advantage is the decisive “bottom‐line”
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factor in deliberation during war. As in the Corcyrean narrative, human nature trumps traditional ethical considerations. But the reader is left uncertain whether this is a discourse in political realism, a lament for the loss of higher values, or a nonjudgmental outline of the interplay of both.
The final chapters (Th. 3.89–116), as in Book 2, shift to a series of busy campaigns, all in 426 bc (Sicily, Aeolian Islands, Attica, the Peloponnese, Trachis, Leucas, Aetolia, Delos and Acarnania). Most notable of these
“lesser” episodes is the account of the Athenians’ purification of Delos, which, W. R. Connor points out, is “a little island of calm equipoised amid the expanding and intensifying war,” in which the archaic poem The Hymn to Apollo is quoted directly and, exceptionally, at some length. The lines relate a peaceful festival with dance, song, and games. Connor also suggests that this episode is a counterpoint to the “perverted festival”
described as part of the strife in Corcyra (Connor 1984: 105–7). The surrounding war includes the defeat of the Athenian Demosthenes in Aetolia, then his victory at Ambracia (Th. 3.95–8 and 105–14), both quasi‐primitive foes who favor guerilla techniques, hence a further regression to savagery in the war. The contrast of a peaceful festival with brutal war is also reminiscent of Homer’s contrasting scenes of the city at peace and at war in a circle on the shield of Achilles ( Il. 18.490–540): perhaps not a direct inspiration, but a parallel to how the contrast can be effective.
Book 4
Covering years seven to nine of the war (summer 425 bc to summer
423 bc), this section “bookends” two major campaigns: the Athenian
occupation of Pylos in the Peloponnese, led by Demosthenes and Cleon
(Th. 4.2–41); and the Spartan campaigning of Brasidas in Thrace and
Chalcidice (Th. 4.70–132). Thematically, in each campaign the negligence of the opponent is taken advantage of to build stunning successes. The
losers on each side display fear: the Spartans after Pylos (Th. 4.41 and 55), the Athenians after losses in Chalcidice (Th. 4.108, 117; Hornblower 1996). The Pylos episode becomes emblematic of Athenian reliance on
an almost fated good fortune, which comes back to haunt them when
they hybristically reject overtures of peace from the Peloponnesians and continue “grasping for more” (Th. 4.15–22; for the “grasping” theme,
see Th. 4.17, 22, 41, and 92; Connor 1984: 119–21; Romilly 1963:
172–9; Hunter 1973: 61–83). The episode also reminds readers of the
innovative and ambitious character of the Athenians. Cleon personifies
this aggressiveness, clashing with Nicias in the assembly and making a
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“mad” promise to resolve the Pylos standoff in twenty days, even though he makes good on it in the end (Th. 4.27–8, 39). The negative characterization of the Athenian general is probably rooted in the historian’s broad bias against Cleon (Hornblower 1987: 165–7).
Between the two major war narratives comes the important speech of
Hermocrates the Syracusan at a conference at Gela, Sicily, considered to illustrate how it is human nature to resist oppressive power (Th. 4.58–65; 424 bc). The speech broadly discusses the greed and ambition of
Athenians and the need for unity against them. It foregrounds the prin-
ciple by which the Sicilians act and achieve victory in Books 6 and 7.
Brasidas’ victories in Chalcidice display the first real military blow to Athens, evening the balance sheets and prefacing an interval of peace.
Brasidas was able to rekindle the antipathy to Athens that existed at the start of the war (Th. 2.8) but had since waned. He did this by approaching city after city in the north of Greece, in eloquent speeches, promising them freedom against a tyrant state, in terms that recall the Persian threat of that great conflict. He proclaims to the people of Akanthus:
And again, we do not desire empire, but since we are eager to end it for others, we would wrong all the rest if in offering universal independence we overlooked your opposition … decide wisely and strive to be the first in beginning the liberation of Hellas … (Th. 4.87)
Brasidas’ greatest prize in this campaign was Amphipolis, a crucial city on the trade route from Northern Greece and the Hellespont, a center for
timber and minerals, and an emblem of Athenian imperialism, founded as
Athens’ colony fifteen years earlier, in 437 bc. The campaign of Brasidas (Th. 4.102–8) involved treachery, diplomacy, and a show of force to win the citizens over. It succeeded despite the best efforts of Thucydides, self-characterized as “general” only here, as mentioned above (Th. 4.104–6).
The conflation of actor and narrator is remarkably restrained, without any undue self‐justification and wit
hout the amplified detail he could well have furnished. The restraint serves Thucydides’ credibility well, being in line with his concern for brevity and a focus on “truth” and causation
(notably at 1.20–3).
The effect of the capture is expressed in terms of fallible human
reactions:
Athenians were in a state of great alarm … the cities subject to Athens …
were strongly motivated to revolutionary action … it was obvious to them that they could do so with impunity, a mistake about Athenian power
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[ dunamis] as great as the obviousness of that power later on, but their decisions were based more on vague wishes than on secure foresight, following the human habit of entrusting desires to heedless hopes, while using arbitrary reasoning to dismiss what is unacceptable. (Th. 4.108)
The analysis here resembles reflections on the deceptiveness of hope by Diodotus or by the Athenians at Melos (Th. 3.45; 5.103; Hornblower
1996: 344). The author warns about limited achievements magnified by
public opinion versus the reality of military power, but he also warns how hopes led by propaganda can have a very real effect on alliances.
The striking inclusion of several documents or inscriptions of treaties quoted verbatim (or nearly so) in Books 4 and 5 raise questions about
the reason for their presence in an otherwise concise author. The Athens–
Sparta truce at 4.16 and armistice at 4.118–19 seem to reflect the
Pylos–Chalcidice parallelism. The treaty at 5.18–19 and alliance at 5.23–4
are important in documenting the Peace of Nicias. An Argive–Spartan alliance in Dorian dialect (Th. 5.77, 79) and a quadruple alliance of Athens (Th. 5.47, corresponding closely to a preserved inscription), along with the others mentioned, may indicate the historian’s innovation in including exact documents, not so much to impress as to adhere to his self‐proclaimed
desire for accuracy (Hornblower 1996: 112–19). Some have argued that
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